


Dangerous Liaisons

by imperatrixxx



Series: The Mikylux Chronicles [1]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Crack, Darth Tantrum and his Evil Space Ginger, Dom!Mitaka (sort of), Everyone loves Mitaka, Fluff, Kylux - Freeform, Kylux with a side of Mitaka (what do we even call this?), Light Bondage, M/M, Mikylux - Freeform, Mitaka is adorable, Sexual Harassment, Snoke is confused, Very Very Mild, hitaka
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6184615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imperatrixxx/pseuds/imperatrixxx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hux and Ren can’t agree on who will tie up whom. When they decide to settle the matter with a wager, Lt. Mitaka unwittingly becomes embroiled in their intrigues. Hux and Ren are not nearly as smooth as they believe, and there is more to Mitaka than anyone suspects.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dangerous Liaisons

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic because we all need more Mitaka.

“I thought, perhaps, we might use this.” The general held up a skein of rich red spider-silk rope, which he had bought on a quick trip to Rhinnal. Soft and strong, it slid through his fingers, glinting like wine in the low light.

The other man regarded the offering over his tumbler of Corellian brandy. His lips curved into a lazy smile. “It would look nice with your hair color,” he observed.

“You misunderstand me, Ren. I acquired it precisely to complement _your_ skin tone. Think how pretty you will be, kneeling before me, all trussed up like a gift.” He allowed himself a minute smirk. “It’s about time you learned some _discipline_.” Hux thought about the finely honed weapon his lover could be, if only he learned an ounce of self-control.

 “You’re projecting, general. Obviously it is _you_ who wishes to be bound in such a manner. Imagine letting go of all your burdens – all that tightly wound restraint. Imagine being responsible for nothing, not even your own pleasure, relinquishing all your power to me.”

Hux sneered. “Clearly we are at an impasse. I propose a friendly wager.”

“Go on.”  

“We will each attempt to seduce a third party. The winner shall take the prize.”

 “Who though?” mused Ren. “Phasma would kill us both.”

“No, no, not Phasma!” Hux quickly agreed. “Someone a little more malleable.” He pretended to consider the matter, although he had arrived at his decision already. He was, after all, the First Order’s leading tactician. “How about Mitaka?” He thought of the lieutenant’s delicate features, his large anxious eyes, and his aura of innocence. Yes, it would be a pleasure to corrupt the young man, and what’s more he was terrified of Ren. Hux suppressed a smug smile.

 “I have always found him rather pretty. Especially with my hand around his throat.” Ren was unusually amenable.

“None of your mind tricks. To even the playing field.”

“No use of your status as general, then. No hint that his acceptance or refusal will in anyway affect his career.”

“Very well.” Hux raised his glass in Ren’s direction. Hux acknowledged that Ren had a certain animal charisma, a base physical appeal, but he lacked charm and any grasp of strategy. Victory, he thought, was inevitable.

 

*

 

Hux understood the importance of precision. While others might charge into combat swinging their weapons and decimating the local population, Hux knew that sometimes all that was needed was a thimble of poison in a cup of wine or a silent stiletto blade between the ribs. Oh yes, Hux could wipe out an entire system when required, but some problems required a subtlety and, indeed delicacy, that the Knight of Ren would never understand. Lt. Mitaka was one such problem.

Hux read his file. His mother, who had died when Mitaka was 6, had been a TIE pilot, his father, like a long line of Mitakas before him, was an accountant. The lieutenant – and Hux certainly couldn’t think of him by that ridiculous name, Dopheld – had, to all purposes, been raised by accountants. Hux circled slowly, considering his prey.

Mitaka was almost painfully shy. He jumped at his own shadow, and yet whatever task Hux had required of him – no matter how terrifying – he had performed, albeit with his heart beating too fast, and sweat beading on his forehead. His courage was something that he had to put on each day, the way Hux put on his great coat. His bravery was not, even after all these years, a habit or part of his character, but rather a choice he had to keep on making.

Hux doubted if anyone had ever appreciated how difficult it was for Mitaka to perform his job. The First Order beat their leaders into callous indifference, and yet somehow Mitaka – with his superlative grades from the Academy – had arrived on the Finalizer a bundle of sensitive nerves. With this in mind, Hux began a two-fold assault. First, he assigned the lieutenant increasingly dangerous missions – going planet-side with Storm Troopers, travelling by TIE Fighter through battle zones, negotiating in person with the most hostile of the Order’s potential allies – and, second, he made sure to appreciate Mitaka’s completion of these missions. Standing just a fraction too close, the general would lean in, letting his breath whisper across the young man’s ear, and praise him for a job well done.

“Don’t think for a moment that I don’t appreciate what a delicate and _dangerous_ undertaking this was.” The general allowed himself the semblance of a small smile. “I would not have entrusted it to anyone else.” A charming blush suffused the lieutenant’s cheeks as he struggled to hold his gaze. “I only wish all my men,” and here he cast a sideways glance at Ren who was stomping around the bridge like an ill-trained young bantha, “were as good and brave and disciplined as you.”

 “Thank you, Sir,” Mitaka stammered, his blush increasing as he preened beneath the unexpected praise.

 *

Hux observed himself in the mirror one last time. The effect was pleasing. Although he was loath to be without his great coat, and the bulk it added to his form, the immaculately tailored formal attire complemented his lithe physique admirably. No Knight of Ren – in his battle-tattered garb – could possibly compete.

His perceptions of his own attractiveness were mirrored in Mitaka’s gasp when he opened his door. Mitaka himself, the general observed, looked very well in black trousers and evening jacket. “You look lovely,” Hux allowed himself a strategic moment of sincerity as he leaned in and kissed his cheek. “Come along, we mustn’t be late.” He grasped the shocked man by the elbow and propelled him down the hallway to the hangar.

It had taken a fair amount of Hux’s attention this past week to acquire tickets to a drama on a planet within reasonable distance of the Finalizer. A distinct difficulty with seduction in the First Order, Hux was beginning to note, was the way in which the Order tended to eliminate art, culinary finesse, and quality alcohol production in its wake. So, the play to which Hux was taking Mitaka was not being performed on a First Order world – although several were hosting incredibly flattering dramatic renditions of the glories of General Hux (and less explicable accounts of the deeds of Kylo Ren), Hux had deemed such offerings louche and tasteless. Instead, Hux and Mitaka were heading to Thyferra, a neutral planet, whose locally renowned theatre was staging a classic love story from the distant past. Although Hux had not framed the outing as a date, _per se_ , he was confident that the lieutenant would see it as such.

The theatre lights dimmed and the actors, costumed in the excessive attire of the Old Republic (what were they, Queens of Naboo? wondered Hux crossly), emerged from the darkness. Hux settled himself in his seat and calculated how long he should wait before moving his hand onto Mitaka’s thigh. This kind of theatre bored him to death. His eyelids drifted closed.

The noise of blaster fire startled him from his doze. He ducked, pulling Mitaka to the ground with him, instinctively sheltering the younger man’s body with his own. He waited for the sound of impact, but instead there was a strange loud crackling hum. When he dared to look up, he saw the blue bolts of blaster fire suspended in mid-air, held in place by the out-stretched arm of Kylo Ren. The knight sent the bolts to the ground with a sharp gesture and then whirled into the air, activating his saber and slashing down into the crowd, decapitating three men who held blasters, before ascending again – impossibly, against gravity – and descending to rout out others – would-be assassins, or perhaps just hapless targets of his wrath. Hux watched, momentarily captivated by the spinning vengeful demon. He was magnificent. He glanced at Mitaka to see the young man staring, fixated upon Ren’s fury. The sparking red saber was reflected in his adoring gaze.

 

“I can’t believe you didn’t warn me of a credible threat,” Hux hissed. They were travelling back, at Ren’s insistence, on his overly flamboyant Upsilon-class shuttle. “If you knew of a threat, you should have informed me.”

“You booked the tickets under your _own name_ ,” the knight hissed back, his voice distorted by his mask, “on a planet known for its Resistance sympathies. If I could discover that, so could any number of would-be assassins. ‘Best tactician in the First Order’ indeed!”

Hux huffed, but said nothing. Ren, after all, had saved his life, and was also sitting with his arm wrapped around him, pulling the smaller man against his reassuring warmth. With a final squeeze of his shoulders, Ren unfolded his long limbs, disentangled himself from the general, and stalked over to Mitaka, who was curled up against the shuttle’s opposite wall. He crouched down, and extended a gloved hand to the young man’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “You are safe now,” he said, his vocoder making the words oddly menacing, “I will never let anything bad happen to you.” Mitaka squeaked in alarm.

 Hux felt a twisting in his gut at Ren’s show of tenderness, a sharp spike of unaccustomed jealousy, although he could not have said which of the two he envied in that moment.

 

*

 

Following his disastrous attempt at a date, Hux paused to reconsider his strategy. At least, he noted, daring rescues aside, Ren’s tactics had consisted of nothing more than breathing loudly and breaking things. Nothing terribly seductive there. Nonetheless, his heroics had certainly provoked the young man’s admiration. It was time to go on the offensive.

It was not an important mission. Chances were that the inhabitants of that particular village had no useful intel on the scavenger girl’s whereabouts.  Nonetheless, Hux sent the worst storm troopers. Phasma graced him with a particular angle of her helmet, and an especially pointed “Sir,” when he requested the unit be sent, but otherwise refrained from comment. 

The expedition was, predictably, a disaster. Phasma was probably relieved when those troopers were lost to six villagers and a hastily assembled happabore cavalry. All that mattered to Hux was the defeat.

“Lieutenant Mitaka,” he addressed his underling, “inform Lord Ren that we have failed to acquire the information regarding the girl.”

“Yes, Sir.” Mitaka shot Hux a brief hurt look before scuttling from the bridge. Hux followed at a discreet distance. This should be good. And perhaps Mitaka would need rescuing from Ren’s rage. Even better.

 

“Sir,” Mitaka’s voice trembled as he entered the control room.

“Yes,” came the low distorted rumble. Ren did not turn to face him. His attention remaining on the highly calibrated navigational panels before him.

“The troops failed to find information on the girl.”

Hux, lurking in the doorway, waited for the ozone-shift in the air that signified the rising Force, waited for Ren to draw his saber, or to whirl around and drag Mitaka across the floor into his hand’s strangling grasp.

Servo-motors whirred. Ren lifted the helmet from his head and dropped it to the ground with a dull thunk. He turned slowly and stalked over to the transfixed lieutenant. Hux remembered the first time he had seen Ren without a mask – that surprisingly young face, all strange angles that should not have worked together, those dark liquid eyes and full lips – and saw that Mitaka was just as enthralled as he had been. Ren rounded, slowly, on the young man, and took his chin in one large gloved hand. He gazed into the startled eyes. Hux could see Mitaka’s pulse battering against the translucent skin of his neck. Hux cursed himself for underestimating his rival. Of course Ren understood the theatrics of gesture. Of course Ren knew how closely fear mimicked arousal and how easily one could slide into the other.

 “Well, lieutenant, please tell the general that he needs to employ better tactics if he wishes to be victorious.” With a gentle brush of thumb over lips, he released Mitaka’s face and stared pointedly into the shadows beyond.

 

*

 

“Following the incident at the theatre, it has come to my attention that you might need to defend yourself,” Ren addressed Mitaka, but he spoke loudly enough for Hux to hear, “in case our esteemed general places you in another _dangerously_ _compromised_ position.” Mitaka swallowed audibly. “Therefore,” Ren continued, “you will meet me at 1900 hours for some personal combat training.” Hux sneered. Mitaka’s experience of actual battle might be as theoretical as his own, but no amount of training would help a non-Force user evade blaster bolts. Ren’s “training” was nothing more than a poorly disguised attempt at furthering his goals and, what was more, he clearly wanted Hux to watch. Ren specified a training room and then swept from the bridge in a needlessly dramatic swirl of black robes.

When Hux casually stepped onto the walkway above the training room, the two were already engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Ren was stripped to his waist and a thin sheen of sweat shone on his hardened abdominal muscles. Mitaka’s soaked tank top clung to his slender figure. “Again” shouted Ren, and Mitaka rushed his opponent only to be felled as Ren kicked his legs out from under him. The larger man leapt on his prone form, straddling his hips and pressing his forearm across his throat. Mitaka whimpered.

“That’s enough, Ren.” Hux called down.

“So nice of you to join us, general. Perhaps you would like to assist me in a demonstration of defense techniques.”

“I’m not dressed for it,” Hux huffed, having no desire to allow Ren to defeat him in front of their quarry. “I merely came along to ensure that you were not damaging one of my officers.”

“Of course not.” Ren stood in one sinuous motion and extended a hand to help the winded Mitaka from the floor. “Physical combat might not be the lieutenant’s forte,” Ren fixed his gaze on Mitaka as he spoke, “but we appreciate him for his brilliance, not his brawn.” He cupped the young man’s face in his overly large hands and bent down to brush a dry breath of a kiss onto his upturned lips. Then, before Mitaka or Hux could respond, he spun away, striding out of the room with his heavy grace, leaving the two men gaping after him.

 

*

 

“You are requesting a transfer? I don’t understand!” One brave tendril of hair had escaped its gel stronghold and fallen across Hux’s forehead.

“You’re leaving the Finalizer? Why?” Ren rounded on them.

Mitaka stiffened his posture and squared his jaw. “Workplace harassment.”

“Workplace harassment?” boomed Ren, causing the other officers on the bridge to concentrate even more diligently on their workstations.

Hux mentally echoed his shock. “That is a thing? That exists?” He was inwardly horrified, picturing the vast sea of paperwork that would crash over him if such a notion became widespread among his staff; Ren’s whole _modus operandi_ could be defined as workplace harassment.

“Yes, this has become a hostile work environment,” Mitaka bit out. “And while, under other circumstances, I might appreciate the romantic attention, it is clear that I am merely the object of some deranged competition for dominance!”

“How can you possibly know that?” Ren spat. Hux cursed him for conceding the point so readily. Several other strands of ginger hair quivered, inspired by their wayward comrade to break rank.

“It is obvious to anyone with eyes that you two are lovers.” Mitaka’s angry gaze flicked between the two men. The bridge staff concentrated ever harder at feigning obliviousness. “And, since you are not cooperating in your attempts to seduce me, clearly this must be a competition between you. Finally, based on an assessment of your psychologies, it is clear that, since neither of you is readily _capable_ of co-operation or submission, this competition must be to prove some kind of dominance between you.”

Several thoughts marched through Hux’s orderly mind. One: he would hate to lose such a fine officer. The young man had been excelling at his job, particularly since Hux had been assigning him difficult missions. Two: he would actually miss the man. (It was hard enough admitting, even to himself, that he had any kind of attachment to Ren, so when had this new development occurred?). Three – and thought three was stumbling, rushing to overtake the other two, breaking the disciplined formation of Hux’s mind – Mitaka was adorable when angry.

“Please don’t go.” Hux shocked himself. He had not said please once since becoming a general.

“We’ll be better.” Ren promised. His voice sounded strangely wheedling through his mask. “We really are quite fond of you.” From Ren that was practically a declaration of love.

Mitaka regarded the co-commanders with a level gaze. His voice barely wavered. “Tell me about this competition.”

 

*

 

Mitaka had never been as gut-clenchingly terrified in his life. “He’s only a hologram, he can’t hurt you from that distance,” Ren had told him with a nasty smile, but it was hard to remember that with the massive visage of Snoke looming over him. 

“And who ARE you?” the scarred face contorted itself around the words.

“ Lieutenant Dopheld Mitaka, Sir.”

“Hmmm,” the horrendous creature mused, regarding him like a bug he was preparing to squash. “And WHERE are Lord Ren and General Hux? What precisely is more important than a summons from their Supreme Leader?”

“They are,” Mitaka battled the color rising in his cheeks and lost spectacularly, “tied up at the moment.” Mitaka cursed the knots in the spider-silk and its tensile strength. Ren, of course, could have freed himself and Hux easily with the Force, had he chosen, but both men found it more amusing to send the lieutenant off to answer Snoke’s summons instead.

Mitaka felt the ancient creature slicing into his head and riffling through his mind. He pulled up a recent memory of Hux and Ren, naked, heads bowed, kneeling on the floor of Hux’s penthouse suite, artfully trussed in crimson, while a fully clothed Mitaka regarded them over a fine brandy. “Huh.” Before Mitaka had a chance to reflect on the fact that the Supreme Leader had just said “huh,” he felt an unpleasant sensation, like a large and greasy rodent scampering out of his brain.

“I do not understand what that means,” Snoke admitted, sounding rattled. “Tell them that their absence will not be tolerated again.” The hologram flickered with static and hastily blinked out.

 Mitaka did not allow himself to sink to the floor. He took a deep breath, forced his shoulders back, and emerged from the holochamber. And if he did not exactly strut back to Hux’s rooms, well there was a certain spring in his step all the same.

**Author's Note:**

> Headcanon: Hux and Ren can barely admit that they tolerate each other, but they both lavish affection on Mitaka.


End file.
